Chapter 2: The Giant, The NEET, The Slightly Obsessive Demoness
-Badheil (God of Combat)-
The cursor blinked steadily, no longer a taunting specter but a beacon calling him home.
"I was the bone of delays," he whispered, the weight of endless excuses fading like mist in the morning sun.
"Excuses were my body, and tabs were my blood."
For so long, he had wandered the labyrinth of distraction, each detour a whispered promise of relief, every delay a silent thief of time. Unknown to focus, alien to discipline, he bore the scars of guilt but never the triumph of progress.
But today was different. Today, he shattered the chains that held him captive.
Fingers poised, heart steady, he let the floodgates open — the words poured forth like a river finally breaking through a dam. The story lived again in his hands.
So, as I begin,
Unlimited Write Works.
….
A chuckle slipped from Badheil's lips as He thought of the parody version of UBW that felt strangely fitting, gazing at the countless blades forming a path to His throne.
Yes, it was childish, but it was these little things that reminded Him that His humanity was still abundant, despite His sudden divinity. Indulging them was good for Him; it kept Him from losing sight of Himself.
He lifted His arm, and a black dagger with a golden crossguard and pommel appeared in His hand.
Its attribute was simple: Instant Death. Or at least, that was what he had tried to give it. But since Blade Smith was all about Holy Blades, the attribute had twisted.
Now, the stronger the sin or corruption, the stronger the execution effect. Still, he doubted it would work on Demigods—at most, it might just deal increased damage to them.
"For low-sequence evil Beyonders, this would indeed kill them instantly—possibly even Sequence 6 or 5," He mused. It would have been nice if Blade Smith were an ability instead of an item; at least then it would scale with His strength and remain useful against Gods.
Then, suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind, one that could very well earn Him several Tickets.
Badheil shifted His attention away from His divine kingdom to the vast Astral World it inhabited.
It stretched out before Him in all directions, a place where reality was stripped bare until only its bones — Concepts, Symbols, and Authorities — remained. There was no true distance here, only the weight of meaning, pressing against His senses.
He could see them, and perhaps more than see, as a god, His perception was deeper. The pale radiance of Holiness, the silent depth of Concealment, the heavy pull of Darkness, each one distinct yet tangled in ways mortals could never understand.
Symbolisms like Energy and Inextinguishable Light, the cornerstone for The Omniscient and Omnipotent were present.
And there, above all else, was the strongest of them, the greatest Symbolism belonging to God Almighty—Lord of The Astral World. It was vast yet contained, an eternal pillar in a realm that was chaos given form. However, without a God Almighty to wield it, it was nothing more than a presence, a silent claim on the very foundation of this place.
Badheil's gaze lingered on it for a moment longer before pulling away.
He moved His attention to the Divine Kingdoms of His fellow orthodox Gods. Past the Tenebrous Heaven of Amanises, dark and unyielding like the void itself. Beyond the Chasm of Storms ruled by Leodero, where violent winds surely tore through endless black skies. Then past the Inextinguishable Citadel of Aucuses, a bastion of unbroken light and order.
His sight finally settled on the Land of Perfection, the Divine Kingdom of the God of Steam and Machinery.
"Stiano." The name rumbled from His throat.
…
-Yuggs Stiano (God of Steam and Machinery)-
The Land of Perfection. To others, it was a name. To Him, it was the culmination of everything He had built since the day He became God.
The sky here was not a sky, but a colossal mesh of enormous interlocking gears, slowly turning and releasing endless plumes of steam and smoke. The twisting and turning of their movement echoed through the vast expanse, a rhythm that felt like the heartbeat of the world itself. That was how it should be—everything in place, everything working toward purpose.
The cities below were no less alive. Steam trains ran along rails that curved like veins through a body, their whistles cutting through the hum of machinery. Airships drifted above the streets, sleek and silent except for the soft churn of their propellers. On the ground, motorized vehicles—refinements of something Roselle once dreamed of but never managed to complete—moved in orderly streams.
Stiano had taken the man's incomplete visions and given them form; perfection didn't waste potential, and Roselle's mind had been full of it.
Every structure, every invention here carried the mark of His influence. Buildings with facades covered in intricate clockwork, massive factories producing endless waves of gears and pistons, and workshops filled with golems that moved with uncanny lifelikeness.
Everywhere He looked, there was motion. Brass-faced buildings covered in moving clockwork. Glass-domed factories churning out endless parts, each one slotting into a machine somewhere else in the city. Artificial humans, indistinguishable from the real thing, worked, carrying crates, hammering steel, adjusting valves.
Their souls—fragments of spirits pulled from the Spirit World—kept them moving with a purpose that mortal workers rarely possessed.
At the centre of Land of Perfection was His workshop. This was where creation began, where ideas were stripped to their essence and rebuilt stronger, cleaner, better.
He was the embodiment of Essence and Technology, a god who breathed life into machines and turned knowledge into power. And though His kingdom was a testament to order and progress, it was not without imperfection—because true perfection was a journey, never a destination.
A journey that was still a long way away from its end.
"Knowledge Moor…" Yuggs Stiano longingly muttered as He overlooked His divine kingdom.
If He had the Sefirot, He could take His creations to a whole new level. Perhaps, He would be able to even decode the language Roselle had used in His diaries.
That hateful guy definitely knew some interesting things that He might have hidden in those diaries.
"Stiano."
The calling of His true name cut through His thoughts, and in less than second, He realised who it was.
"Badheil." The God of Combat.
What does He want? He curiously wondered.
Although not an ally, the Twilight Giant was someone He had dealings with before. For instance, the potion formulas for Sequence 9 through 6 of the Twilight Giant pathway had been made available to His church in exchange for turning the Giant King Aurmir's eye into a Sealed Artifact for the God of Dawn.
Of course, that wasn't all he had asked of the Giant God. A Sealed Artifact made from an ingredient equivalent to the main material for the Sequence 1: Worm of Time was on the level of a Grade 0 Artifact.
Alongside the potion formulas, Stiano had also acquired a Knowledge Magister—Sequence 2—Beyonder Characteristic. Even with those two things as payment, it still wasn't truly enough. But back then, as the weakest True God, he had to be careful not to offend the heavyweights who had been around since the Second Epoch.
That wasn't the case anymore—no thanks to Roselle, ironically enough.
No matter how much I dislike the man, He still deserves my gratitude for helping me digest my Illuminator Characteristics. As thanks, Stiano had accepted the Emperor's son, Bornova, as his Blessed Angel once he saw the boy's promise, born already at Sequence 5.
But instead of being pleased for his son, Roselle had nursed a grudge against Stiano. The Emperor believed he was using the boy to control him. He misunderstood completely!
Stiano had simply wanted to exchange ideas with someone of such a bright mind—and perhaps gain a little more inspiration in the process. And then the man had to do something outrageous, like that mad Blood Emperor, and jump to a non-adjacent pathway.
Sometimes Stiano wondered if he'd come on too strong, pushing Roselle to the edge. Socialising had never been his forte; he would rather tinker and create new technology than navigate people's egos.
A sigh slipped past His lips as He focused on what Badheil had to say. Given that the Giant had called His True Name, it meant He could turn His full attention to the God's Divine Kingdom—with Badheil's permission, of course.
"There's a Card of Blasphemy under your Church that I want." Ah, yes. That was the second reason He didn't mind making deals with the Twilight Giant—He was straightforward with His demands, unlike Amanises.
A shiver ran down His spine at the thought of that terrifying woman. She was the only reason He hadn't thrown His lot on Badheil's to become Eternal Darkness—a Great Old One.
Who knows how many trump cards and truths She was Concealing.
Still—
A Blasphemy Card? What use would the Twilight Giant have for that? No—more importantly—how was He unaware that His own Church possessed one? Right… that Emperor had said they carried anti-divination and anti-prophecy capabilities…And He must have thought it would be funny to leave it in the place He hated….
Although He was curious about how Badheil knew of the Card of Blasphemy—especially when they are protected by such formidable defensive measures—Stiano didn't ask. They weren't that close, and He was more interested in what sort of payment He would receive.
"It's a Bookmark in Roselle's Manuscript of Creativity." Hiding something valuable inside something already precious… Yes, He could see the logic in that. And given that it had gone undiscovered until now, it was clearly a success.
"As for payment, I have a weapon I'm sure you'll find interesting." Stiano instantly perked up. If the God of Combat—the Master of Arms—said a weapon was worth His attention, then it had to be something extraordinary. Especially to Him, the former God of Craftsmanship and current God of Steam and Machinery.
"Embodiment of Essence: Guardian of Craftsmen; Brilliance of Technology…" The gates to the Land of Perfection opened, and through them fell a black dagger, its gold crossguard and pommel gleaming faintly.
As the greatest Appraiser in the world, the moment it appeared before His eyes, He instantly saw through the weapon's capabilities.
What shocked Him, however, was not its function , impressive though it was. Instant death to any evil low- or mid-sequence Beyonder was no small feat, but it wasn't impossible to replicate with the characteristic of a Sequence 3 Ferryman of the Death pathway, known for their Death Gaze.
No, what caught His attention were three things:
First, how had Holy and Death attributes been combined?
Second, why did the dagger bear no negative effects common in Sealed Artefacts?
And most importantly—
"This weapon doesn't have any Beyonder characteristics."
The God of Steam and Machinery didn't ask the Twilight Giant how for now. The mystery was something He would very much enjoy unraveling Himself.
….
-Cheek (Primordial Demoness)-
Cheek's hands rested lightly on the cold marble of the statue. Its face was smooth, impossible to ignore, and She traced the lines as though memorizing them for some eternal record. Alista Tudor had carved it Himself in His own image—or at least, She liked to pretend he had.
"Ah~ Tudor~ My dear Alista~ Darling~ Love~ How I miss you~ Soon, soon we will reunite, and reign above all as the Original Creator." She muttered His name repeatedly, over and over, along with all manner of declarations of love for Him.
Normally, such behavior would strike most as odd, even terrifying. But with Her, all they could focus on was the sheer beauty of Her voice—gentle, melodic, a rapture that made them feel honored simply to listen. After hearing Her speak, every other sound felt vile; it would be a mercy to lose their hearing than to tarnish ears that had once been graced by the voice of a goddess.
The Mirror's all around reflected Her image, the white bone dress clinging perfectly to Her figure, the black hair snaking across the floor. She let Herself linger there for a while, letting the memory of Him—the warmth of Him—fill Her entirely. Nothing else existed.
Then, a voice cut through the haze.
"Cheek."
Her True Name reached Her ears, and She froze. Not in fear, but irritated at the intrusion. Slowly, Her gaze shifted, following the mystical connection created by the other individual.
Once She reached the other end of the connection, She blinked in confusion for a moment.
Twilight. Passage of Time. Decay.
The Authorities and Symbols were clear in Her senses.
"The Twilight Giant?" She tilted Her head slightly, the simple motion carrying a magnetic Charm that could make even a god hesitate, falter, and lose their bearings for a brief, dangerous heartbeat.
She wondered what He wanted, making contact with Her for the first time. No, She could easily guess why. The position of Eternal Darkness.
The strength and defense of the God of Combat were things She remembered from when He and the other Orthodox Gods had interfered with Her and Her beloved's plan to become the Mirrored Original Creator, a rational Creator.
The Original Creator…both the maker of all and the destroyer of all. Day and night. The light of holiness, and the decadent abyss. All contradictions bound into one being, every symbol, every meaning—woven into the same body. Masculinity, femininity, and that which is neither, all in a single breath.
He slumbered beneath the earth, dreaming… until one day He woke, and the world nearly ended. And because He is all things, He is also the worst of things—always splitting apart, always seeking to come together again. Creation and annihilation in the same heartbeat. Even the gods cannot escape Him, for they are made from Him. And yet…
The possibility of the Mirrored Original Creator exists because even the Maker Himself… wants to exist. To remain. To endure. He does not wish to forever drift in madness, tearing Himself apart only to stitch Himself together endlessly. A rational Creator—yes, even He would desire such a thing.
The Primordial One's lips curved slightly as She thought back to the God of Dawn. Indeed, He was impressive in both attack and defense—She could acknowledge that. But to Her, with the way authorities and concepts bent to Her will, the way even reality itself seemed to pause for He, He was not an impossible opponent.
As for His qualifications for Eternal Darkness, in Her eyes, He did not have it, or more precisely, He could not compare to Evernight. Of all the Seven Orthodox Gods, She was the most dangerous, Her Concealment Authority able to hide even things from other gods.
Who knew how many schemes had been layered beneath such Concealment?
Still, Cheek listened curiously to what the Giant God had to say.
"An Alliance, one that benefits both of us. What do you think?"
"Oh?" She purred, expecting as much. Having a strong shield in Her corner was certainly beneficial. "Continue~" She purred out, making sure Her Charm carried over. Even with His Mind Concealment from the Demon Hunter Sequence keeping His thoughts and desires orderly, it did not mean She could not nudge them a little, planting ideas in His mind.
A Demoness—the Primordial One at that—currently weakened and less of a threat… wouldn't He want to taste Her, knowing She was at His mercy?
A tinkle of laughter filled the Mirror World as Cheek carefully listened to Badheil.
"Your injuries… what if I told you I found a clue that could speed up your recovery and help you suppress the wills?"
Cheek's eyes widened in surprise. Perhaps…perhaps She had misjudged Him, assuming He did not possess the ability to grasp the Eternal Darkness position
++++
A/N: Wow…I feel like I deserve a pat on the back for somehow pulling off writing two God's PoVs when there isn't a lot to go off of their personality in canon.
I guess this could be considered AU now, as I found it funny to make Stiano a NEET who only cares for His tech with shit social skills, and that Roselle misunderstood Him, cause you know, it's Roselle, the guy that once thought he was a protagonist.
Anyways, it's all a very reasonable development.
Also, the Evernight glazing is real with this one. Even Her fellow gods fear Her.